Bad Boys
by MT Yami
Summary: SEQUEL TO "BULLY" but can stand alone. Drama unfolds in South Park as Kenny's constant sleeping around sets relationships around him on fire. Meanwhile, Butters and Cartman cope with college life. CartmanxButters, whore!Kenny, and kindergartner SLASH.
1. Denial

Author's Note: Okay…so this is the REAL sequel to "Bully." I promise. xD The whole KylexKenny thing wasn't working out, and I felt like the setting wasn't conducive to following up on my OTP, so here we go again. Some stuff in the beginning makes more sense if you read "Bully" but after that, it is a standalone fic. Pairings (as of right now) are KennyxGothStan, CartmanxButters, DamienxPip and KevinxShelly. All characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker unless otherwise noted. Lyrics belong to Cascada, from her song "Bad Boy." Reviews much loved, flames not so much…if you don't like slash, don't read. For now, a T rating since it's very mild BL, slight hentai innuendo but nothing explicit. Kanpai!

Bad Boys

Chapter One

by MT Yami

_I don't understand how we started doing this, but I convinced myself, eventually, that we were just helping each other mend our broken hearts._

Stan Marsh gripped the steel frame of Kenny McCormick's rusty bed, his jet-black hair plastered against his face.

"Jesus Christ, Kenny, I always feel like this bed is going to break."

Kenny grinned wolfishly and rested his chin next to Stan's shoulder. "Yeah, Tweek always says the same thing. You almost done?" He dug his fingers into the soccer player's strong shoulders, his thrusts quickening.

"Yeah." Stan bit his lower lip, his lower back pressing into Kenny's slick torso. "You bring Tweek _here_ to do it? Poor kid, it must totally freak him out."

"He likes it plenty good, don't you worry." Kenny grunted lowly, taking one last deep thrust. The dark-haired boy cried out his own climax a few seconds later, collapsing against the frame of the bed and ignoring how uncomfortable it was.

They didn't move for a few minutes, until Kenny finally disengaged himself and stood, stretching his long, languid limbs.

"Hungry?"

Stan quirked an eyebrow. "Not if you're going to offer me frozen waffles."

"Haha, your guyliner is totally fucked up now. Talk about bedroom eyes." Kenny reached for the half-empty bottle of Budweiser sitting on his dresser and took a swig. "Don't you think you're getting a little old for the goth-emo scene?"

The dark-haired boy narrowed his kohl-smudged eyes. "I have my reasons, Kenny, and you know it."

"When are you going to get over that ho? I mean…really, Stan. It's not healthy."

Stan burst out into ironic laughter. "At least I'm not pining for some fatass Nazi. I _loved_ Wendy, and for some time she loved me back. You're just chasing after an asshole who always had eyes for someone else."

The sandy-blond gritted his teeth but suppressed an outburst. "You're _paying_ me for all this, Stan. Don't forget that. And don't let the door hit you in the vagina on the way out, it's going to be sore until the next time you need to forget about Wendy."

Stan's expression evolved into one of pure hatred. "Yeah? Well, you know what, maybe I'm just not going to come back and let your poor ass starve."

Kenny chuckled. "That's almost funny. You know you're not the only one, and you _will_ be back. I know you will."

"Whatever. Have fun whoring yourself out for the rest of the afternoon."

As Stan stormed out of Kenny's room, blazing half-naked past a very astonished Kevin McCormick and Shelly Marsh, who had probably been making out on the living room couch.

Unfortunately, he knew Kenny was right. He grabbed his shirt and jacket, which were lying unceremoniously next to the front door where the taller boy had ripped them off. Without Kenny, Stan would have never even begun to forget about Wendy; she consumed his thoughts day and night, and the only respite he found from the torture was in the sandy-blond's sinewy arms.

As he stepped out into the fall afternoon, just barely marred by a slight chill, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked back up at Kenny's window. The tall blond was still up and drinking his beer, naked.

"Fuck, dude."

**Be my bad boy, be my man  
Be my weekend lover  
But don't be my friend  
You can be my bad boy  
But understand  
That I don't need you in my life again  
No I don't need you again**

--

"_Whatever. Have fun whoring yourself out for the rest of the afternoon."_

Kenny shook his head, downing the rest of the beer bottle in his hand. Fuck that Stan. Always trying to make things more personal than they needed to be.

Stan was always running away when he was frustrated with the way his life was turning out, and until Kyle had left for Yale, he had run to him every time without fail. It was interesting the role that the lithe blond had at last adapted in Stan's life, basically replacing Kyle and Wendy at the same time.

Kyle. Stan's super best friend. It had been a running joke with everyone that the two of them were so close that they must be lovers, especially after Wendy dumped Stan after prom.

Kenny scoffed. _If only they knew what was _really _going on. _

It had begun the night of Craig's Fourth of July party, when Stan had gotten himself horribly punch drunk in his despair. Kenny had volunteered to drive him home because Kyle was once again, fighting with his girlfriend Rebecca, while Stan was whining incessantly to go home and away from Wendy, who was visibly having a good time without him.

Stan had been needy, vulnerable, and Kenny couldn't help himself because he was hurting, too.

After what had happened with Cartman and Butters, Kenny had learned a little bit about love. He learned that loving your best friend was usually stupid, and that having sex with your best friend's lover to get back at him usually didn't work too well either. He and Cartman spoke civilly now and got along pretty well when they were with the guys, but more often than not, Butters tagged along and made the situation extremely awkward. The other blond boy probably would never forgive him for the abuse, and Kenny didn't blame him.

They had both left for school a couple of weeks before, and he knew Cartman was attempting to spend as much time with Butters as he could even though the little blond was a couple of hours away at the University of California, Santa Barbara on a dance scholarship. It had amazed everyone that Cartman himself had gotten into Caltech even with his shitty grades, but his best friends had had a hunch that his diabolical scheming was really revealing a brilliant, if not sociopathic, mind all along. Perfect SAT and ACT scores didn't lie.

Since they had graduated, Kenny's life hadn't changed much. He still lived in his parent's grungy house; since he wasn't going to bother going to college anyway, he had gotten a job fixing cars at Clark's Automotive and Tire. In his spare time, he made a little extra money sleeping with whoever wanted to sleep with him. Usually he'd see a lot of Tweek, who had always been unable to stay in a steady relationship, as commitment was "way too much pressure." Lately, however, his frequent visitor had been Stan.

Kenny knew that it wouldn't last long; Stan had joined the Army in typical all-American mountain hick fashion and was just waiting to be dispatched. The sandy-blond wasn't too thrilled about this, because when Stan left, he would be left considerably lonely.

_Well, not really._ Bebe was still be around, working at Raisins during the day and stripping at night. She had been persuading him to settle down with her, maybe start a family, since soon after prom night, but just because he'd taken her to the stupid thing and been fuck buddies throughout high school didn't mean that Kenny had any intention of marrying her. He'd had lots of fuck buddies in high school, girls _and_ boys. Tweek had stayed in South Park too, having inherited his father's coffee shop. Somehow, though, neither option seemed very appealing.

Kenny flopped down onto his bed and grimaced at the state of his bedsheets. Time to do laundry again.

--

"Eric? Do you know where my laptop charger is?"

"Goddammit, ho, how would I know?"

"Shucks, you were the last one using my computer, boy howdy!"

It was a fairly typical fall day in Santa Barbara—hot, and very unlike South Park. Butters, clad in little pajama shorts and a skimpy tank top, stood in front of the TV, arms akimbo, glaring at his boyfriend.

Cartman was lounging comfortably on the white IKEA couch, miffed that Butters was blocking the screen. The oscillating fan blew his chestnut hair into his face, but it was a cool respite from the blistering September heat.

"Butters, it's probably on your desk and you just didn't notice it."

"Don't you think I'ah would've seen it by now?"

It was also a fairly typical day in the life of Cartman and Butters, post-graduation. Sometimes, Butters felt that his dorm room was just a little too small for both him and Cartman, and not just because of the behemoth's size.

"I'ah…oh, I'ah guess it is here. Sorry, Eric."

Cartman reached for the bowl of Cheesy Poofs on the side table. "I told you so. Jesus, Butters…you worry too much. I tell you this all the time."

The little blond shrugged. "Yeah, well…I'ahm awful busy so it's hard to keep track of everything. I'ahm going to dance practice now, do you need me to bring anythin' back for you on my way home?"

"Nah. Oh wait, more Cheesy Poofs? We're almost out." Cartman examined his orange-stained fingers gingerly.

Butters rolled his eyes. "Hamburgers, Eric, you're going to gain the freshman twenty in no time! Why don't I'ah get you something else—?"

"Shut up, ho! Just go buy me some Cheesy Poofs, goddammit!"

The petite boy sighed and grabbed his keys and dance bag. Yes, the room was unbearably small, and it was only the first weekend Cartman had come to visit from Pasadena; he wondered how the rest of the year was going to pan out at this rate.

"All right, fine, I'll be back in three hours, don't trash my room!"

"Shut up, ho!"

--

Butters shouldered his dance bag, making his way across the quad towards the Visual and Performing Arts building. It wasn't long before his fellow dancer and South Park High graduate, Philip "Pip" Pirrup, caught up with him and matched stride.

"Oh, good afternoon, Butters! Wot a lovely day for dancing, eh?" The long-haired blond smiled cheerily.

Butters returned the smile, a little stiffly. He enjoyed Pip's company, but at that moment, was in no mood for cheer. "All right. Eric's come to visit, and boy howdy is it difficult to live with him."

Pip nodded, very seriously. "No, I definitely know the feeling. When Damien pays me a visit from Hell, he positively trashes my room and terrorizes my roommate."

"Yeah, I'ahm real grateful that I managed to get a single, or else my roommate would never be able to live in my room when Eric's around. And I'ahm afraid he's going to get fat again, the way he's been eating." Butters frowned.

The smaller blond shrugged. "Ah well, old chap, I'm sure we will both adjust. Though I _am_ concerned about poor Evan. I'll have to let Damien know the next time he visits that he cannot set Evan on fire."

Butters couldn't help but laugh. He ruffled Pip's pin-straight locks and sighed. "I'ah guess so." But despite the little British boy's optimism, he couldn't help but feel that college life, especially with Cartman, was not going to be nearly as easy as he thought.

**A/N:** Hey guys. Review, or it doesn't continue. Simple as that. SO REVIEW! Bwahaha. I don't care if you fav it or alert it, leave me a review.


	2. What Are Friends For

Author's Note: Second chapter! -claps- It's getting juicy, and we're setting the stage for some major interference. I made Dougie Bebe's cousin because it fit into the plot pretty well, and I needed to introduce him and his younger gang (Filmore and Quaid from SP episode "Trapper Keeper" and Ike) somehow. He isn't elaborated well enough in the canon series for that to matter much anyway. And I know that these chapters are shorter than "Bully" chapters, but these are reading at a faster pace. Read and review, guys! The more comments I get the faster this thing gets churned out. All previous disclaimers still apply.

Bad Boys

Chapter Two

by MT Yami

"Where are you going _now_, Kenny? Why don't you ever want to be with me anymore?"

Kenny ducked quickly to avoid a lamp that came flying at his head, thrown by a very irate and probably PMS'ing Bebe.

"What the fuck, Bebe? You don't own me!"

Bebe burst into tears. "I thought we loved each other! Why can't we get married and have kids? Goddammit Kenny, we fuck enough, don't you think? Am I not good enough for you? Shelly told me that she sees you over at their house all the time…are you fucking Stan? Tell me, are you fucking Stan Marsh, your goddamn _friend_? You know, when I found out that you were sleeping with Tweek, it didn't bother me, but Stan is one of your _best friends_!"

Kenny made his way over to her with astonishing speed and grabbed her by the neck, his dark eyes narrowing.

"Bebe, I suggest that you shut the fuck up now, because you have no idea what you're talking about, and I hate when bitches rave about nonsense."

Bebe looked up at him with those big blue eyes of hers filled with fear, and Kenny's expression softened slightly, letting go. She clutched at her neck, coughing.

He sighed. "Bebe, I don't have any money. Why would you want to marry me?"

"Because I love you, Kenny. I always have." She smiled sadly, still massaging her bruising neck.

"I sell my body for extra cash. You know that. It's the only way I can eat something other than frozen waffles." Kenny shook his head. "You're a crazy bitch, but you deserve someone who's going to support you. What about those kids I see here sometimes? Filmore and Quaid? Aren't they Ike's little buddies?

"They're high school _freshmen_, Kenny. I can't believe you'd think so low of me. They only come around here because Dougie visits me sometimes, and they're his little gang." Bebe hugged herself, biting her lower lip. Her younger cousin, Dougie Stevens, was a junior at South Park High School. "Please, Kenny. Just give it a try."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Bebe, I just don't—"

"Kenny, I'm pregnant."

--

"Here are your goddamn Cheesy Poofs."

Butters chucked a bag of the orange snacks at Cartman's head. The behemoth was snoozing with the TV on, and the petite boy was seriously annoyed with the trashed state of his dorm room.

"'Ey! What was that—oh, thanks, Butters." Cartman woke up with a snort and immediately ripped open the new bag with all the fervor of a starving Ethiopian.

The little blond shook his head. "Eric, I'ah seriously think you should eat something besides Cheesy Poofs. They're not very good for you, and I'ahm concerned—"

Cartman regarded him with a slightly puzzled look. "What? You don't like me anymore because I'm fat? Is that it?"

"Eric! Listen to me! That's not what I'ah said at all! Look, I'ahm in no mood to fight you, I'ahm tired from dance practice and I really just wanna take a shower and go to bed. I'ahm just looking out for your health, is all. You're not fat, hamburgers, you're the Beavers' only hope at not having the shittiest college football team in the league again this year." Butters massaged his temples, frustrated. "Is this how it's going to be every weekend, Eric? Am I eventually not going to want to see you?"

The tears came fast and hard, astonishing both boys. The bag of Cheesy Poofs went forgotten as Cartman leapt up to gather Butters into his arms.

"Oh, fuck. Butters, I'm sorry. What's wrong, seriousleh?"

"You d-don't listen t-to m-me when I try t-to say stuff t-to you to make you b-better! I love you s-so much and I want us to s-stop f-fighting!" The little blond buried his face into the bigger boy's chest and sobbed. "Eric! P-please!"

"No, I'm sorry, really Butters, I'm going to be better, okay? Stop crying, please." Eric clutched him closer, rocking slowly back and forth. "We're just hitting a rough spot. Christ, we've been together three months without one. We were due, okay? It's gonna be okay."

Butters sniffled and looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Promise? Shucks, Eric, I'ah don't want to lose you over something so stupid."

Cartman darted in to capture those pouting lips, unable to help himself. There were, however, just some living habits that were difficult for him to break, and Butters wasn't going to make it any easier for him to do so. Ordering his mom around and trashing his room were just too deeply rooted in his being to stop at a drop of a hat, even for his boyfriend.

"I promise. I'm gonna try, okay? When you come visit me next weekend, I'm gonna try and have a clean room and like, nice food. Relatively, anyway. You can't expect _foie gras_ on crackers right away, okay?"

The petite boy forced a little smile. "All right, Eric. Please try."

--

Kenny could have sworn that he would have thrown up the entire contents of his stomach, if it hadn't so happened that he hadn't eaten in quite some time.

"W-what? But Jesus Christ, Bebe, we've always used condo—oh no. You didn't! You _didn't_! Why? The fuck would you do that, Bebe?"

Bebe backed away from him instinctively. "I had to get you to stay with me. I needed a reason—"

"Poking holes in condoms is not a way to make me stay with you, you stupid bitch!" Kenny roared, clenching his fists to still them. He needed to get out of there and fast, before he decided to kill her with his bare hands.

She cowered in the corner, and Kenny let out a deep breath, closing his eyes and counting to ten.

"I'm leaving now, and before the next time I see you, you better have gotten rid of that goddamn thing."

The doorbell rang then, and Kenny pushed past a very baffled-looking Dougie to exit the Stevens house. Bebe fell to her knees, sobbing.

--

Stan answered the door, irate to see that it was Kenny.

"Aw, come on, man. A Fall Out Boy shirt? I know you're all emo and shit, but man, now this is a question of _taste_."

The dark-haired boy crossed his arms over the Fall Out Boy logo and sighed heavily. "What the hell do _you_ want?"

Kenny invited himself in, pushing Stan aside to enter the house. "Dude, Bebe's pregnant."

Stan's eyes bugged nearly out of his head. "Dude, what the fuck? Don't you guys use condoms? She's a ho, isn't she on birth control or something?"

"No dude, you don't get it. She did it on _purpose_. So I'd marry her." Kenny grabbed at his hair angrily. "What the fuck am I supposed to do? Of all the stupid fuck things that bitch could've done, this is the worst, dude!" He flopped down on the couch, defeated, and buried his face in his hands.

The other boy was so shocked that he could only shake his head in disbelief. A full five minutes passed before he spoke.

"Holy shit, dude. I can't believe she did that. That's fucking low. Are you sure it's yours?"

Despite how angry Stan was with Kenny, there was no denying that this was definitely a time to be a friend again. They'd been through too much together to abandon him at a time like this.

"Probably."

"What is she going to do with it?"

Kenny scoffed. " I don't fucking care, as long as she keeps me out of it. I told her to get rid of it."

This caused Stan to quirk an eyebrow. "You told her to abort it?"

"Well, yeah, we're not exactly well off enough or _old_ enough to raise a goddamn kid," Kenny retorted. "Jesus, Stan. This is exactly why you shouldn't be upset about Wendy. Bitches do stupid things."

Stan was silent for a moment. "I guess so. But she wouldn't do something like that."

"I need a joint, dude. This is just fucking epic."

The dark-haired boy bit his lower lip, visibly mulling over the situation in his head. Kenny loved seeing Stan like this, uncertain and vulnerable. The little bitch just fucking _cared_ way too much for his own good.

"I don't have any pot. C-could I maybe console you some other way? I mean…call us even for this afternoon."

Kenny looked up at him, baffled. "Stan?"

He took the blond boy by the wrist and silently led him to his bedroom. Sometimes being a friend meant a little self-sacrifice, and Stan always knew the one thing that cheered Kenny up.


	3. Hitting The Showers Alone

Author's Note: The drama is just bleeding all over the pages now, folks. This chapter focuses a little more on Butters and Cartman's changing dynamics, and introducing my personal favorite characters in this saga, the kindergartners all grown up. Ike is seeing his world turned upside down because Filmore is deviating from being "one of the jocks" with his sudden interest in Morgan. Kenny once again proves himself as a whore, but we see a different side of Kenny when he's with Morgan. In case it confuses anyone, Romp is from SP episode "Cartman's Silly Hate Crime," Filmore is from "Trapper Keeper," and Morgan is from "Stanley's Cup." Reviews make the chapters come faster! All previous disclaimers still apply.

Bad Boys

Chapter Three

by MT Yami

"I'm telling you, there is _nothing_ to do in Pasadena."

Butters giggled, looking at up Cartman with arms akimbo. "Well, it's not like there's anything in Santa Barbara worth seeing. I mean, Pip and the dance team threw their party for me last night so I'ahd get to spend my special day with _you_! And there's no one else I'ahd rather celebrate growing older with, Eric."

The behemoth sighed deeply, rolled his eyes, and leaned down to kiss the smiling blond. "Ah well, happy birthday again, Butters." Sometimes he could be _too_ sickeningly cute. Butters had driven down from Santa Barbara that morning to visit, eager to spend September 11, his birthday, with his boyfriend.

As a result, they were shopping in Old Town Pasadena all day, much to Cartman's dismay and Butters' enjoyment. The petite boy was happily flitting from artsy shop to artsy shop, sporting the new body-hugging little Hello Kitty tee that had been Cartman's birthday present, and the larger boy was counting the minutes down to his real "present," courtesy of Astroglide and the roomy double bed back at his dorm.

"Eric, can you carry these? Let's stop at Starbucks and get a drink real quick, okay?"

Cartman grumbled as he shouldered the mountain of shopping bags. _How did I descend to bitch status so quickly?_ Nonetheless, he followed the sprightly little blond into the crowded coffee shop obediently.

Butters turned around just in time to hear a solid thud and to see the bags go flying.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck?"

The behemoth looked down to see a slim dark-haired boy sprawled on the floor amidst the bags, rubbing his head gingerly.

He looked up at Cartman, grinning a little sheepishly. "Aw man, I'm sorry, I was totally not watching where I was going. Let me help you with those bags."

As he stood, Cartman got a good look at his face, all the while ignoring the bag the boy was trying to hand to him.

"…Romp?"

The dark-haired boy's eyes widened in surprise. "Cartman? Wow, man, it's been a while! I didn't recognize you, you're not—"

"Fat? Yes, I know. I played football in high school and all of a sudden I shed the baby fat like Jews shed foreskins. Anyway. How have you been? I didn't expect to run into you so far off from South Park."

In contrast, Romper "Stomper" Crowe was easily recognizable, looking pretty much the same as he did back in Cartman's juvie days—short, with tousled, uncontrollable black hair that stuck up in all directions, cobalt blue eyes, and a teardrop tattoo above his left cheekbone. He was, of course, missing the Stompers, which the larger boy was somewhat relieved about—they were, admittedly, dorky and very mid-80's-era.

It surprised Cartman in turn when the shorter, sinewy boy grabbed him close in an affectionate hug; he could _feel_ Butters stiffen in protest. Despite his boyfriend's reaction, though, the behemoth couldn't help but return Romper's infectious grin.

"Awesome, dude. Ever since I got out of juvie I've been trying to make a better life for myself, so I'm at the California School of Culinary Arts here in Pasadena. I've always loved cooking."

Something about this new Romper seemed very odd and very unlike him, Cartman decided, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. When the older boy released him from the hug, he stepped back uncertainly.

"Hey, remember that time you crapped out Disneyland in my cell because you knew how much I wanted to see it? I was really glad to call you my friend then—hey, who's this?"

Romper had just noticed Butters, who by then had a very sullen expression on his face. His smile faltered a little.

"This is Butters, my—" Cartman hesitated and glanced sidelong at Butters, who shot him a look. "My b-boyfriend." Somehow, admitting this to an ex-juvie cellmate was very awkward.

To his even further surprise, Romper's expression didn't change. "Oh. Well, that's great! Do you go to Caltech too?"

Butters shook his head, his jaw still set in a slightly annoyed jut. "No. I'ahm Eric's boyfriend from high school. I go to UCLA, Santa Barbara. Hey, wouldn't you guys like to get out of the doorway? I'ahd like to _not_ get kicked out of this Starbucks, especially before I'ah even order something."

The other boys complied, grabbing the bags and settling down on the couches by the window.

"So, you're visiting for the weekend? How sweet." Romper threw a saccharine smile in Butters' direction. The little blond ignored him and walked over to the ordering line.

Cartman shrugged apologetically. "It's his birthday today, and we're supposed to be having a day out together."

"Oh. How long have you guys been seeing each other?" The dark-haired boy kicked back on the sofa, his hands behind his head. Cartman had to admit that the years had treated him well, and Romper had grown handsome since his days in juvie.

"Three months, about."

Romper chuckled. "I never thought you'd be…you know. That kind of guy."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"No, no, I just meant that I didn't think you'd be the commitment kind of guy. Fuck, who cares if you like guys? I swing both ways. No sense in restricting yourself to one flavor, right?"

This new Romper was definitely freaking Cartman out now, and he was relieved when Butters returned with two peppermint white chocolate mochas in hand.

"Okay, we need to get moving if we're going to finish all of our shopping and still make dinner reservations, Eric." Butters handed him a cup and gave Romper what was possible the fakest smile that Cartman had ever seen plastered across his boyfriend's normally benign face.

Cartman nodded, relieved to escape. "Y-yeah, so I'll be seeing you, huh? You're living around here, right?"

"Yeah! Definitely give me a call to hang out some weekend." Romper returned Butters' sugary grin. _Some weekend when your boyfriend's not around._ "Number?"

The little blond tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the other two boys to swap numbers.

"Can we go now? Seriously, Eric…"

"Bye, guys!" Romper stood and shoved a couple of bags into Butters' arms. "See you soon, Cartman?"

Butters elbowed Cartman in the gut as he transferred the bags to him.

"Uh huh, see ya, Romp."

As soon as they walked out of the Starbucks, Butters wrapped his arms around Cartman's neck and kissed him hard, crushing the bags the bigger boy was holding.

The behemoth turned bright red. "What was that for? We're in broad daylight."

"To prove that you're mine. I'ah want to have a _happy_ birthday."

--

"Ike! Shoot the goddamn puck!"

Ike Broflovski looked up at the scoreboard. Two seconds left. He raised his hockey stick to score—

"Yeah, Morgan!"

All of a sudden, the puck was gone, whizzing towards the other end of the arena. Ike mentally smacked himself as he watched Morgan Ryan sail past, saluting him with a smirk.

"Broflovski, what was that?" Coach Bartlett climbed over the partition, waving his clipboard. "That's the second skirmish this week you've lost because you got distracted."

Ike sighed and looked up into the stands. His best friend, Filmore Anderson, was waving at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll tell Filmore not to come to practice anymore."

"Doesn't matter, Broflovski! People cheer at the games all the time, you better be prepared next time. Hit the showers, boys!"

Morgan bumped against Ike as he skated slowly to the gate, grinning. "Got you there, huh, baby?"

"I'm not a baby, asshole. Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I can't kick your ass, Ryan!"

The argument might have escalated, but as always, Filmore scurried down from the stands to pat Ike on the back and once again try to persuade Morgan to go out with him. Ike still didn't quite understand what everyone saw in the cocky, self-assured boy—he'd never been turned down by anyone and was notorious for having a new boyfriend every week.

Worse, Filmore was well known to be a player among the girls of their class, and everyone wanted a piece of him. For him to be strung along by Morgan was, frankly, appalling.

Morgan tucked a piece of reddish-brown hair behind his ear and looked at Filmore coquettishly. "Hey Filmore, did you see me steal that puck out from under Ike's nose?"

"You didn't _steal_ it, bitch, I wasn't even touching it!"

"Yeah, it was awesome." The taller black-haired boy leaned in and offered a flirty smile at the girlish brunet. "Hey, what are you doing after practice?"

"Showering."

Ike saw the stupid grin on his best friend's face widen, probably imagining a very wet and very naked Morgan. Because of the brief distraction, the slender boy was able to sashay away without further interrogation.

Filmore's face fell when he finally realized that the object of his affection had left.

"Well, that was a little better than yesterday, wouldn't you say?"

Ike sighed. "Filmore, I have no idea why you like him so much. He's clearly a stuck-up, fickle bitch. In fact, I heard that he was having sex with Kenny McCormick in the locker rooms yesterday—he's the only one I've heard of that Kenny has sex with for free."

"I don't care. He's beautiful, Ike, just look at him!"

"Yeah, I look at him every single day and I still have no idea what you're talking about. Anyway. I'm gross, so I'm gonna shower and meet you out by the bikes in a few minutes. Okay? Stay out of trouble."

Filmore chuckled. "Aw, come on, Ikey. What, you jealous?"

"Of who? Yeah, I'm _so _jealous of you, in love with a ho and all."

Ike just barely managed to hear Filmore's quiet retort before the locker room doors closed behind him.

"No, I meant…are you jealous of Morgan?"

--

Kenny parked his car outside of the South Park Recreation Center, tapping his foot impatiently. He glanced down at his cheap watch, keeping an eye on the doors to the building.

When at last a tall, slender brunet emerged, Kenny got into the driver's seat and started up the engine.

"How was hockey practice?"

Morgan slid into the cab of the truck and shrugged. "Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Jesus Christ, Kenny, we're just having sex. You don't need to act like you care."

The sandy-blond raised his hands in defeat. "Look, I'm just trying to be nice. I mean, having sex with you isn't like having sex with like, Tweek. You're fifteen. Don't you have self-image issues or something?"

Morgan shot him a skeptical look. "Everyone wants to have sex with me. Why would I have self-image issues? Even Filmore Anderson, South Park High's biggest chick magnet, wants to get into my pants."

"Then why aren't you having sex with him?"

The brunet averted his eyes out the window, the first sign of awkwardness Kenny had seen.

"He's Ike Broflovski's best friend."


	4. New Cars At Raisins

Author's Note: This story is getting a little crazy, so I hope everyone's keeping all the intertwining storylines/characters straight. Thanks for all the comments and reviews; I hope you all enjoy this dialogue-packed chapter just as much! All previous disclaimers still apply.

Bad Boys

Chapter Four

by MT Yami

Kenny hung over the side of Stan's bed, smoking a cigarette. He stretched luxuriously, looking over at the dark-haired boy, who was busy picking their clothes up off of the floor and folding them.

"Hey Stan?"

Stan made some kind of acknowledging noise but didn't pause in stacking the clothing on top of his swivel chair.

"What do you do if you think you might actually like someone, but they're not exactly the commitment type?"

That did the trick. Stan whipped around, looking slightly aghast.

"What the hell, Kenny? You're the king of the non-commitment types. Why would you even be worrying about it?"

The blond shrugged and rolled over onto his back. "It was totally hypothetical."

"No, no, I don't think it was. Finally fallen for a client, huh? Who is it, Tweek?"

Kenny looked slightly uncomfortable. "I don't think I should say. He's not exactly a client. And I don't know if I've 'fallen for him,' per se. I just like doing nice things for him, which is…"

"Weird, yeah. Gotcha." Stan scratched the small of his back and shrugged. "Does this mean I can't pay you for sex anymore?"

"Haha, nice try." Kenny chuckled. "He's not going to stop sleeping around, so why should I?"

The dark-haired boy shook his head. "Oh, so he's a whore too?"

"Aw, come on man, you know I prefer 'sex worker.'" Kenny mock-pouted. "But yeah. I guess he's a regular little coin slot. But for some reason…he won't charge me. Does that mean anything?"

"Oh, the wooing methods of the prostitute." Rolling his eyes, Stan sat down on the bed next to Kenny. His added weight on the bed caused the blond to undulate up and down briefly. "So you think this kid's got it bad for you then, since he won't charge you?"

When the skinny blond nodded, Stan burst out laughing. "Kenny, that's priceless."

"What? Come on, Stan, I'm being totally serious."

Stan shrugged. "Who the hell knows, man. Who is it? Tell me, for real."

"Dude, I can't." He dropped his voice down to a whisper. "I could get, um, arrested."

"Holy shit, dude!"

"Yeah."

"Aw, weak, man, is it Ike?"

Kenny wrinkled his noise. "Fuck no, dude."

The dark-haired boy's eyes suddenly widened, and he smacked Kenny upside the head. "Sick, man! You're screwing Morgan Ryan? Dude, I _know_ that kid! I coached his peewee hockey team!"

"Well, apparently, I'm not the only one," Kenny offered.

"I didn't know he was a whore now!"

"Sex worker, Stan!"

"Yeah, whatever, still!"

The blond lit up another cigarette and shrugged. "He's probably the best-looking guy I've seen in South Park in a long while."

"You mean like, since Cartman left? Is Morgan fat now?" Stan watched Kenny's face fall. "Sorry man, that was low."

Kenny nodded. "Yeah, it was. You know better than that, Stan."

They sat in silence for a moment, until Stan put a steadying hand on the blond's shoulder. "Well, how long have you guys been…you know, screwing?"

"Two days ago? Yeah."

The dark-haired boy's eyes bugged out of his head. "What the hell, man? And you're in love already?"

Kenny frowned. "Stop calling it love. I've only loved one person in my life, and that's totally different than this. I dunno. He called me out on the street next to the South Park Recreation Center the other day. I couldn't say no for some weird reason…like I know he's just a kid, but there was something about him that I liked. He took me inside and I fucked him against the lockers." He chuckled humorlessly. "It reminded me a little of fucking Butters, but like, a sexier, more experienced Butters, and I wasn't doing it out of spite this time either. Anyway, I found out that he has hockey practice there every day so I offered to pick him up from practice yesterday to screw at my house. The weird part is that both times, there was no money involved. I'm not used to that anymore."

"Dude, you are so fucked up. I don't know what you can do, really. And before I forget, here's your fifty bucks."

The blond looked at the crisp bill, an odd smile on his face. "Heh, if you'd have given me better advice, I would have given that right back to you as a therapist fee."

Stan laughed. "Sorry man, but screwing underage boys is a little out of my expertise range. Why can't you find yourself a nice girl for once, settle down?"

"Because nice girls poke holes in condoms and refuse to get abortions, that's why." Kenny tucked the bill in the pair of jeans Stan was holding, which was, incidentally, his. "Like, how can I tell Morgan I'm the father of a little bastard? I _still_ don't know what I'm going to do about that, but I guess for right now it's more Bebe's problem than mine. _I_ don't have to worry about stretch marks and shit like that."

"Well, I'm sure he'll understand, or maybe not, considering he can't get pregnant nor does it seem like he's going to be impregnating anyone anytime soon."

"Weirder still, we've never kissed or nothin' like that."

"_What_? Kenny, this is just getting more fucked up by the minute. How can you even tell you like him then?"

Kenny held up a hand. "In our defense, it's not part of our job description. Kissing is like, for dating only—I have some semblance of dignity left, you know. And it's as I said. I don't know. It's just some weird feeling I've got about him."

"Dude, let's go to Raisins or something. I'm starving, so my treat."

The blond sighed and pulled his jeans on. "Stan, I think my life is a mess."

"That would be a morbid understatement, Kenny."

--

Butters ripped the ballet shoes off of his aching feet, looking over to grin at Pip. Both boys were sprawled out on the floor of the little dance studio, exhausted from a night of practicing for auditions.

The next day would be the determination of who would be on what dance team, and Butters was gunning to be in the top company. His future beyond college depended on it, and unlike Pip, ballet was not his forte for sure.

"That was crazy. I'ahm so nervous for tomorrow." Butters unscrewed the top of his Nalgene bottle and took a deep drink.

Pip wiped his face with his towel and laughed. "You're going to be just fine, Butters. Golly, you might even give _me_ a run for my money, eh?"

"Hey Pip?"

"Yes?"

Butters stretched his legs out thoughtfully. "Do you ever worry about Damien cheating on you?"

The other blond shrugged, releasing his long locks from the low ponytail he wore. "I don't like to think about it, but there's a possibility. I mean…we don't really see much of each other nowadays. He's in Hell all the time."

"Do you think Eric would cheat?"

Pip reached for his water bottle as well. "You think he is, or something?"

"I'ah dunno. Maybe not."

"I don't think you should accuse him of it unless you've got some pretty solid proof."

The taller blond stood, still looking a little doubtful. "Yeah, well there hasn't been any particular instances or anything, but then again, I don't know what he does when he's in Pasadena."

"Who is he going to cheat on you with at _Caltech_? Some Bill Gates look-alike?" Pip scoffed. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and cracked his neck.

Butters thought then of Romper, and frowned. He was, decidedly, not unattractive, and that fact was worrisome.

"What if there _was_ someone? Like an old friend. Eric has an old friend going to school in Pasadena."

Pip shrugged. "I think you should give Cartman more credit than you do. Come on, then. I'm tired, and we have to be up early tomorrow as well."

Gathering his belongings and following Pip out the door, Butters was still unsure. Between dance auditions and worrying about Cartman, he had no idea when he would find time to even sleep.

--

"Hi! Welcome to Raisins, my name is Lexus!"

The perky brunette waved happily as Stan and Kenny entered the bustling restaurant, holding up two menus.

"Just the two of you cuties today?"

Kenny nodded, stifling a yawn. He hated Raisins, simply because he could never get any business out of the Raisins girls, on top of the fact that Bebe worked there. Stan, though, seemed to have a fond attachment to the place, especially after he and Wendy had gone their separate ways. Lexus led them to a table and Kenny plopped himself down quite unceremoniously.

"Your server will be Bentley, she'll be over here shortly!"

Stan leaned over the table and grinned at Kenny. "They have a new waitress! I'm totally excited."

The blond rolled his eyes. "Probably will be as unwilling to get in the sack as all these other hos. Let's just be grateful that our waitress isn't Bebe."

"Hi, I'm Bentley and I'll be your server this afternoon."

Kenny's head jerked up at the familiar voice, and was stunned to see a mostly-familiar face to match.

"_Morgan_? You work here?"

The heavily made-up brunet rolled his eyes. "Can I start you off with some onion rings or fries while you browse the menu?"

"Stan, it's Morgan! Dude, why do you work here? I thought you had a good thing going, you know, on the streets."

Morgan leaned over and hissed into Kenny's ear, "When I'm working, you gotta call me Bentley. And I'm a girl." He pointed to his chest, which was appropriately chicken-cutlet supplemented. "And I don't work the streets. Got it? Jesus Christ, Kenny, you wanna get me fired?"

Just then, Porsche walked by and Morgan instantly swapped his chiding frown for a sugary, flirty grin and leaned down on his elbows, pressing his 'cleavage' into Kenny's face.

"Oh yeah, it was totally boring before you hotties came in, everyone here is so lame…"

Kenny held back a chuckle as he watched Morgan eye Porsche, who smiled and waved at him before turning to a customer. As soon as he was sure that she was engrossed with something else, the brunet straightened and sighed.

"I hate this fuckin' job," he murmured under his breath. "Anyway. What would you guys like to order?"

"I'd like a burger with grilled mushrooms, curly fries, and a Coke," Stan said, not looking up from the menu. "Kenny?"

The blond sighed. "Let's see…you're paying? I'll get the buffalo platter and a Coke."

Morgan had a wry smile on his face as he jotted the orders down on his receipt pad. "Ah, I see, out with your boyfriend, huh?"

"No, no, it's not like that! Stan's my childhood friend, we've been buddies since kindergarten." Kenny held up his hands and shook his head vigorously. Stan laughed.

"Yeah. I just know how poor the little bastard is, so I figure he might want some free food every now and then."

The brunet nodded. "Uh huh. Okay, well, I'll get these orders in and have them out for you shortly."

When Morgan left, Kenny looked at Stan and frowned. "I don't think he believed that."

"Well, you do have a reputation for sleeping around. And it's not like we don't fuck every now and then."

"You _pay_ me, asshole. That doesn't count."

After Morgan had brought out their food, Kenny couldn't help but see a tinge of resentment in the younger boy's eyes. Suddenly the big plate of chicken seemed that much less appetizing.

He and Stan ate in relative silence, occasionally asking each other to pass the ketchup, but no real conversation ensued. Kenny kept sneaking glances over at Morgan, who was chatting up what looked a lot like who they called 'Craig and those guys'. It was strange how even after Tweek and Craig broke up, they had remained close friends despite the obvious fact that Craig was now dating Clyde. Kenny envied their foursome's ability to stay friends, but he supposed that since all of them decided to go to Park County Community College, or in Token's case, was too set for life in inheritance to even bother going to college, they had it a little easier.

A buxom blonde girl joined Morgan at their table then, and Kenny's stomach plummeted.

"Hi, welcome to Raisins, I'll be your server, Acura!" Bebe smiled, touching Token Black's arm gently. The tall black boy looped an arm about her waist and pulled her close.

"Did you see that?" The blond's jaw gaped in surprise.

"See what? Man, this burger rocks."

"Token! And Bebe! He's all over her, and she's not mad!"

"Dude, that's her job." Stan shoved another handful of ketchup-drenched curly fries into his mouth. "Why would she get mad?"

"The Raisins girls aren't supposed to be _touched_ by the customers. It's like in Vegas, the touch-and-go rule. If they touch, they go. I mean…all the Raisins girls have to do is protest and Maury will come over and kick some serious creeper ass. I think Bebe and Token must be messing around. Stupid bitch, she's fucking _pregnant_!"

"Dude, you know way too much about the Raisins rules. Are you gonna finish those wings, or what?" The dark-haired boy reached over to pluck an uneaten wing off of Kenny's plate. "And since when did you care about Bebe's business?"

"That sounded horribly reminiscent of Cartman." Kenny swatted Stan's wandering hands off of his food. "I just don't think Bebe should be sleeping around while she's pregnant. I might not like it, but it's still my kid."

"You're probably just mad because Morgan hangs out with her and gets the dirt on you from her," Stan retorted. "Eat your wings, we're leaving."

"Wait, not yet. I want to talk to him."

"You can't go over there!"

"Watch me."

Kenny stood and briskly strode over to the other table, inciting glares from the guys sitting there.

"What're you doing here, Kenny?" Token asked sternly, not releasing his hold on Bebe.

"Not looking to screw you guys, that's for sure." Kenny shot a glance at Tweek. "Well, at least _one_ of you appreciates my services. Craig and Clyde, you don't seem to need much help in that department anyway, I bet you guys fuck like bunnies."

Surprisingly, the person who replied first was Morgan, who sighed exasperatedly and placed one hand on a cocked hip. "Kenny, what do you need?"

"Can we talk?"

He heard a snort from Bebe and turned to her sharply, his dark eyes narrowed. "Shut up, ho. Did you tell your little friend how far along you are in your pregnancy? 'Cause maybe you can get him to pay your sorry ass for a blowjob so you can pay your hospital bills. Or maybe you're into poking the preggers, huh, Token? Just don't kill my baby with that black snake of yours."

"Kenny, that's unnecessary." Morgan put a stilling hand on Token's shoulder, because the taller boy had begun to rise from his chair angrily.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Kenny. It's bad enough that you leave Bebe to deal with this on her own, and now you have to go around talking smack about her?" Token clenched a fist but didn't try to break from Morgan's grip.

"Clearly, you don't know who fucked who over on this one. You're lucky she's already pregnant so she won't be poking holes in your Magnums." Kenny chuckled mirthlessly. "Seriously though, Morgan, I mean, Bentley, can I get you to step outside with me, or something? We really need to talk."

"I get off at seven. You know Maury won't let you talk to me while I'm working." Morgan looked at Kenny from beneath thick lashes, and the blond felt a strange feeling stirring in his stomach. "I'll just go to your place later, ok? Leave my customers alone."

Kenny nodded slowly, tugging at a string pull on his parka. "You promise?"

"Since when did you care about a ho? Just get the fuck out of here, Kenny." Token took a deep breath, still clenching his fists. "If you don't get out, I _will_ kill you."

"Jesus, calm down, Jesse Jackson." The blond held up his hands in mock-surrender and turned back towards Stan. "Everyone just needs to take a chill pill. Stan, we're out!"

"You didn't finish your wings, you asswipe! Hey, Porsche, can we get these boxed up?"

"Sure thing, sweetie! Thanks for eating at Raisins!"

Kenny shoved his hands into his pockets and morosely followed Stan out of the restaurant once their wings had been packaged up. "I think my problems just got a little worse, Stan."

"That would be a morbid understatement, Kenny."


End file.
